Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 95 In Crisis
"You know the principles of the center."

The judge slowly rose to his feet.

At that moment, the refractive index of all the light in the air shifted slightly, as if his very standing had altered the constant of space.

The creases in the uniform cut through the wind like blades in the lightning, and the "gear ring eye" badge on the chest glowed with a faint light. The "eye" in the center slowly rotated, emitting a low click.

As the badge spun, the previously lifeless magnetic patterns on the surrounding walls began to resonate silently, producing subtle "interference fringes" between them, as if the air in the entire space was "calculating".

Each of his breaths was accompanied by low-frequency magnetic wave pulses;
The fluctuations in his tone directly affected the rise and fall of the energy level.

"Whether it's anomalies, ghosts, or other forms of non-standard events,"

When he speaks, his voice is not a simple sound wave, but a resonant frequency with multiple layers of echo, as if it comes from different dimensions at the same time.

"What the center wants is—clarification, not explanation."

He took a step forward.

The air was pushed aside, and the brightness of the magnetic patterns on the wall instantly rose to its limit. The energy level of the entire space seemed to be automatically adjusting in accordance with his pace.

With each step he takes, the energy flow beneath the ground automatically generates a set of geometric arrays:
Hexagonal, cross, reverse spiral.

That was the automatic calculation of the "laws," a simulation of order centered on him.

Even the dust particles floating in the air are arranged into symmetrical patterns under the pull of the minefield, as if reality itself is conforming to its logical structure.

His voice was low, but his tone was sharp enough to cut off your breath:

“And you, every time you bring back a bunch of fragments and a few empty reports.”

He looked up.

Golden light flashed, like the instant lightning cut through the air.

But what's even stranger is that the perspective of the entire space went awry the moment he looked up.

The walls and the floor overlapped slightly in a very short time, as if reality was being "redefined" in the area he could see.

Those pupils are no longer just light, but an interface for reading and writing information.

The structure of the air, the flow of magnetic patterns, and the micro-vibrations of psionic energy were all "read" by his gaze.

"I'd like to ask about the drill arm,"

When he spoke, his voice crackled slightly with electricity.

That's not vocal cord vibration, but the natural discharge of energy as it propagates through the air.

"How much longer do you plan to breathe on this floor?"

As soon as those words were spoken, the air in the iron coffin area became completely still.

Even the green flame in the lamplight was forced to be reduced to a nearly extinguished line.

The entire world, as if under his "laws," was instantly "paused."

The air was extremely low.

Even the path of sound propagation has been rewritten.

Standing there now, he no longer resembled a "human being."
It's more like a law with its own will, a "law" disguised in human form.

At that moment, everyone present understood one fact:
The judge is not wielding power; rather, reality itself is obeying him.

Inside the drill arm's shell, Xu Yan could clearly hear the faint hissing sound of the prosthetic body's hydraulic system due to excessive tension.

Apart from that, all was quiet.

The entire world, as if under his "laws," temporarily ceased to function.

The air was extremely low.

Cold sweat slowly slid down the back of Xu Yan's neck, following the body he was controlling.

In that instant, he could almost feel the stagnation of the spiritual energy flow within the "drill arm".

--broken.

He couldn't make up a story about this.

The judge's will was like a hydraulic clamp about to close; if he hesitated even a fraction of a second longer, he would be completely "judged as abnormal" and crushed in this iron coffin.

There is no choice.

He had no choice but to throw himself on the table as his last bargaining chip. "Report!" he abruptly interrupted, his voice hardened by the resolute determination of a desperate gamble. "While no Abyss Core was found at the scene, a high-risk anomalous individual has been captured! He is here!"

The judge slightly raised his gaze, his composure as calm as the undercurrent beneath the ice.

"who is it?"

Xu Yan waved his right hand.

Two team members immediately pushed the stretcher inside.

His unconscious body—his true form—was revealed in the cold light.

His face was pale, and the old-fashioned camera was strapped to his chest.

The mirror surface gleamed with an extremely subtle sheen, as if it were "breathing".

Both the lamplight and the iron-faced woman simultaneously concealed their presence.

The cold current in the air that suppressed psychic energy suddenly converged towards the camera.
It was as if some higher-level being was subconsciously defending itself.

The judge took off his glasses.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Xu Yan, the silver-level contractor of the Forgotten Photo Studio."

The drill arm spoke in a steady tone.

"He was found unconscious, with a blank soul, suggesting that his soul may have separated from his body."

"Your soul is lost?"

The judge's voice suddenly tightened.
Energy sensing in the atmosphere triggers an alert at the same time.

A pale red warning light flashed along the edge of the conference table.

The lamplight looked up, the green flame leaped, and whispered:
"The soul leaves the body, but the physical body does not decay. This should be impossible."

The judge did not look at him, but simply approached him step by step.

With each step he took, the room temperature dropped by one degree.

The woman in the iron mask even slowed her breathing; she knew that this silence was the most dangerous signal.

Are you sure he's still alive?

"Vital signs are stable," the drill arm replied.

"It's just... an empty shell."

The judge did not respond.

He slowly squatted down.
My fingertips brushed against the old-fashioned camera on the body's chest.

The camera was so old, its dark silver leather covering sharp metal edges, like a dormant bat with its wings folded.

Its lens, that dark glass known as the "Synchronous Mirror," did not reflect light under the cold light of the iron coffin area, but rather swallowed it.

When you gaze at it, your vision is drawn into a thick, dark shadow, as if you can hear countless whispers wriggling on the other side of the glass.

The light from the mirror reflected in his palm.
The golden spirit runes dimmed instantly.

The moment he looked at the camera, the arcs of electricity in his golden eyes flickered erratically, not because of psionic instability, but as if the 'laws' themselves were being rewritten.

Xu Yan felt a tightness in his chest as he drilled into the body.

That fear wasn't an act; it was like a cold, metallic snake, crawling upwards along the prosthetic spine of the body.

He could feel the fear signals originating from the biological brain of the "drill arm" itself, constantly assaulting the defenses built by his "external consciousness".

The calmness belonging to Xu Yan and the trembling belonging to the drill arm formed a strange layer within this body.

Does the judge really recognize this camera?

Father... Did you also stand before another "judge" back then and feel the same coldness?

"Who gave you permission," the judge looked up, his tone suddenly rising, "to bring this level of restricted equipment into the center?"

The drill arm immediately ducked, its voice hushed:
"When it was found at the scene, it was right on the target's chest. It was an unknown model and was not registered in the central database."

I lack the authority to make a judgment; I can only take them all back.

(End of this chapter)